


Bloodthirsty

by ophelia_interrupted



Category: Swordspoint Series - Ellen Kushner
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-19
Updated: 2015-08-19
Packaged: 2018-04-15 14:40:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4610574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ophelia_interrupted/pseuds/ophelia_interrupted
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alec's thoughts as Richard fights a tavern duel over him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bloodthirsty

            Much to Alec’s annoyance, he was having a hard time starting a fight.  Most people in Riverside knew him by now, and therefore knew what Richard would do to them if they interfered with him.  This meant he could walk around more or less safely at any time of the day or night, but he would have gladly traded that for more opportunities to see Richard fight for him.  Watching the swordsman at work was like the high from a drug—the more he experienced it, the more he wanted.

            Therefore he jumped at the chance to sidle up to an armed stranger in a tavern in the Old Market.  The stranger was a big, beefy man with a shaved head and a sword slung at his hip.  A scar across his cheek announced that he’d fought and survived at least one duel.  Alec weighed his choices and decided to pull out an old, reliable approach.  He walked up to the man and exclaimed, “Oh, it’s you!” as if they were old friends.  Then while the stranger was eyeing him fishily, he continued: “Do tell your mother I said hello, and remind her I still need my change from her half-price night.”

            The man appeared to try working that out in his head, and then either gave up before he recognized the insult, or just didn’t care.  He pushed Alec aside and growled, “Get out of my way.” 

            He tried again, tapping the stranger’s sword and saying, “That’s a lovely toy you’re carrying.  Ever hit anything with it?”

            The man snapped, “Piss off,” and convulsively gipped the hilt.  From the corner of his eye, Alec could see Richard shift to attention, like a guard dog at an unfamiliar noise.  Alec tried not to smile and failed.  He loved that Richard watched out for him. 

            He tried one more time.  “Are you working?” he asked, as if he were propositioning a prostitute.  “Because I’ve got a square of Delight and a halfpenny back in my room if you are.” 

            The man turned his back on him.  “Fuck you,” he said.

            “Yes, that was the general idea.  Well done,” Alec said, but the man ignored him.

            Defeated, he took his mug of ale and went to play at dice with the shiftiest looking men he could spot, thinking that maybe they’d start a fight with him.  Richard stayed at their table, but when Alec glanced over at him, he could see that he’d turned to watch what was happening in his vicinity.  They’d been lovers for a month and a half, and meeting that angel-blue gaze from across the room still sent delicious chills down Alec’s spine. 

            He proceeded to get drunk and slowly lose his money, which turned his mood sour.  His hopes were momentarily raised when the bald man with the sword dragged a crate up to his table and sat down, but he completely failed to respond when Alec insinuated he couldn’t count high enough to play dice.  Alec gave up.  Some people were impossible. 

            The bald man quickly cleaned Alec out, and sat there laughing about it.  He was missing several teeth and his breath was terrible.  Alec got up and said disgustedly, “Yes, very good.  It would have been even more impressive if you hadn’t loaded them.”  

            It was just an off-the-cuff comment, it wasn’t even witty, but as soon as he said it, the bald man stopped laughing.  He dropped a heavy hand onto Alec’s forearm and demanded, “Are you saying I cheated?”

            Alec’s heart lurched in his chest, his joy and fear intermingled.  He made himself stand his ground, and gave the man his most imperious stare.  “Are you saying you didn’t?” he asked. 

            “You little rat turd,” the man growled.  He stood up and grabbed the front of Alec’s robe as if he intended to shake him.

            “My fight.”

            Alec’s gaze went past the bald man’s shoulder to see Richard standing there.  The swordsman had no swagger and no bravado, but it was as if the temperature of the room had dropped twenty degrees.  People began backing off, odds were offered in subdued voices. 

            “He touched me,” Alec said, pointing at the stranger.  Richard looked at him for an instant and then his gaze flicked back to the bald man.  Alec would have given much to know what he was thinking. 

            The man let Alec go and turned around.  He looked down at Richard, compact, sturdy without being especially muscular, and standing at wary ease, and apparently didn’t see anything impressive.  “You,” he said.  “And I suppose you’re his boyfriend.” 

            Conversation in the room died.  Richard just kept his gaze on him, neither assenting nor shrinking from the word he’d used.  “Move away, Alec,” he said.

            Alec moved to a table that was as close as he dared to remain.  It had been conveniently abandoned by its former tenants moments earlier.  They’d left their drinks.  Alec took a slug of wine from one of the cups and then grimaced.  “I didn’t even know that they made wine that bad,” he said to no one in particular.

            Then Richard drew and dropped into guard position, and it was all Alec could do not to sigh.  The only people he’d ever seen who moved as beautifully as Richard were professional dancers, but dance was so comparatively unexciting.  He set his elbows on the table and rested his chin in his hands, absently chewing on a pinkie.  The bald man drew as well, but Alec thought he looked cumbersome and awkward next to Richard. 

            The first clashes of blades were exchanged without incident.  Alec knew absolutely nothing about sword fighting, and had turned down Richard’s many invitations to teach him.  He didn’t care about the gritty details of thrust and riposte, he adored swordfights because he liked watching the people.  In particular, he liked watching the interplay of emotions on the faces of Richard’s opponents, as their plight became more desperate. 

            The bald man started out sneering, but a few exchanges with Richard caused his brow to furrow in concentration.  His mien was still confident, and he was aggressive, pressing the swordsman and getting him to give ground.  Richard, as usual, was nearly unreadable, but from talking to him Alec knew he was running through a mental checklist of his opponent’s fighting style: strengths, weaknesses, habits, preferences.  He paid especial attention to habits and preferences because they could cause a swordsman to become predictable. 

            Then suddenly, Richard struck at the bald man, fast as a snake.  It interrupted the rhythm of the fight and made the man back up a step.  It was too early in the fight for that to have been a real attack; Richard was just drawing his opponent out, putting him off-balance.  He would still be curious about what the man could do.  The man would still have a minute or so left to live. 

            For a moment, Alec closed his eyes and just listened to the clash of blade on blade.  The blows fell in a regular tempo, accented by the contrapuntal thud of the men’s boots on the floor.  Alec considered it sweeter than any chamber music he’d ever heard.  Then another strike came too quickly, breaking up the beat.  Alec smiled.  Richard again, nipping at the bald man’s flanks. 

            He opened his eyes to see that the muscles of the bald man’s jaw had clenched.  He wasn’t looking frightened yet, but he seemed angry.  Plainly, the fight was not going the way he’d expected.  Meanwhile, Richard had limbered up a little and was putting pressure on his opponent, making him fall back.  Alec felt so in love that he bit his pinkie to the point of pain.  Nothing was as graceful as Richard when he killed people. 

            Abruptly, there was someone at his elbow.  “We all know what you are here,” said a low voice.  Alec looked up to see one of the tavern’s serving women standing beside him.  Her dark eyes were hard as anthracite.  “Bloodthirsty bitch.  As soon as St. Vier tires of you, you’re going in the river.  Not all in one spot.  Maybe they’ll send your head back to your people, if you have any.” 

            Alec was in a magnanimous mood, and he smiled at her.  “It’s nice to have a job where there’s a roof over your head, isn’t it?  I’m sure it beats turning tricks out in the cold.”  

            A particularly loud clashing of blades turned both of their attention back to the fight.  The bald man was definitely on the defensive now, backed up against a table and seeming to have trouble coping with the speed of Richard’s attacks.  Alec was annoyed to discover that the serving woman had made him miss his favorite moment of a fight, the instant Richard’s opponent realized he was in over his head, and that he was fighting for his life. 

            Alec suspected that Richard could end it at any time now.  He would simply be waiting for the moment that he could deliver a clean, technically perfect _coup de grace_.  This was the one time when Alec regretted that Richard’s proficiency was wasted on him.  He knew that other swordsmen stood in awe as St. Vier played out his endgame, but to Alec it all just looked like one sword blade crashing on another. 

            Suddenly, the end came.  A straight thrust through the bald man’s left-upper chest.  His face registered shock and pain, and then he reached up as if to grab the blade that was sticking out of him.  Richard withdrew it before his hands could close around it, and the man fell. 

            Alec got up and went to stand by the body, fascinated as always by the transition of life into death.  He watched wide-eyed as the man’s hand clenched, opened, half clenched again, and fell still.  As he died, the room felt as if an icy wind blew through the crowd, leaving everyone feeling naked and unsettled.  There were murmurs and the shuffling of feet. 

            Richard wiped his blade on the dead man’s cloak and then sheathed it.  He reached over and tapped Alec on the elbow, nodding toward the door. 

            “Can’t we stay?” Alec asked.  He was still drinking in the tableau of the tavern’s patrons closing in around the corpse.  Soon they’d begin rifling through his pockets. 

            “It doesn’t work that way,” Richard said.  He’d explained to Alec before that it was a good idea for a swordsman to vacate a place where he’d caused a death, and not come back for a while.  Not only did this give the proprietor a chance to stop resenting him for making a mess, but it allowed people to deal with the fallout of his actions and move on.  He claimed that crowds had turned against victorious swordsmen who stuck around too long to gloat. 

            Richard dug a coin out of the pocket of his coat and tossed it to the lady who owned the tavern, who was glaring at him.  She held the coin up to the light to examine it.  Alec wondered if she were going to bite it to test if it was real.  Instead she slipped it into her own pocket and gave Richard a steady but less-hostile look, and then turned away to help her customers move the body outside.  

            Alec and Richard exited into the crystalline winter night.  It was so cold it hurt to breathe, but the stars were out in magnificent profusion.  Alec didn’t always like looking at the stars anymore; they reminded him of his torn-up thesis and the classmates that had been sent away from the University in disgrace.  But that night he was drunk on ale and elation, and he forgave the stars their sins.  As he walked he spun around in circles, making the twinkling lights overhead whirl around him.  He was all right until he stepped on a patch of ice and nearly fell.

            Richard caught his elbow just in time.  “Careful,” he said.  For an instant, their bodies were pressed close together, and their gazes met.  In the starlight Richard’s eyes were dark, but Alec knew that in daylight they were the near-violet color of speedwell petals.  He wanted to kiss them, but they had a tacit agreement to keep their displays of affection in the bedroom.  Their relationship wasn’t anybody’s business but their own.  Instead, Alec looked deep into those lovely eyes, then at Richard’s lips, and back to his eyes again. 

            The swordsman smiled, understanding.  “Let’s go home,” he said. 


End file.
